A Thousand Quills
by alp crim
Summary: Hermione Granger finds it exceptionally difficult to keep track of her quills, and Blaise Zabini finds it oddly amusing to tease her. BZHG.


  
**Title:** A Thousand Quills.  
**Author:** alp crim. 

**Summary:** Hermione Granger finds it exceptionally difficult to keep track of her quills, and Blaise Zabini finds it oddly amusing to tease her. BZHG.

**Pairing:** Blaise/Hermione.  
**Rating:** T.

**Genre:** Vaguely Romance.  
**WARNINGS:** Couldn't find a reason for one myself, but you're welcome to.

* * *

There was a difference between wanting something and needing it.

Hermione Granger cursed the gods repeatedly as she rummaged through her bag, groping for a quill. What was it with her and her ability to misplace every writing utensil ever created? In elementary school, she had lost pencils and pens. In Hogwarts, she couldn't keep track of a single quill for more than two days.

Unfortunately, her class at the moment was Ancient Runes.

Harry and Ron weren't in Ancient Runes, which meant she couldn't even ask to borrow a quill. Hermione continued in her futile search, cursing more vibrantly than ever. She should've followed Harry's lead and taped a set of quills to the inside flap of her book bag.

"Pardon me, Granger."

The voice was vaguely familiar, and she glanced up in annoyance. Dark, curly hair, bluest eyes she'd ever seen – it was god-awful Zabini, come to torment her some more.

"What is it," she snapped. She didn't have time for him. Professor Babbling would begin their lesson soon, and she wouldn't have anything to take notes with. Ernie Macmillan was disinclined to part with his quills, Justin Finch-Fletchley was on the other side of the room, and Hannah Abbott never carried more than one quill with her at a time.

She _needed_ a godforsaken _quill._

"Did you lose something?"

_Sod off already,_ she wanted to scream. Today wasn't exactly one of her best days, and she didn't have the patience to deal with another sodding Slytherin. Malfoy had been infuriating enough during Potions earlier in the day. Not wanting to seem _too_ rude, even if she was liable to slit his throat at any given moment, Hermione settled with a waspish, "Nothing that may be of your concern."

It still sounded a tad priggish, but at least that smooth, olive throat of his was still unmarred. She couldn't guarantee it would stay that way, however, if Zabini insisted on staying the path he had originally chosen.

"Still, may I be of service?"

Under any other circumstance, the offer might have been endearing. On any other day, she might have glared at him suspiciously, hesitating because he was a bitingly-sarcastic Slytherin, and she a prude of a Gryffindor.

Today, his proposal, innocent as it was, just served to rile her up even more. It was unreasonable to get so angry over six simple words, but today, she just wanted to be left alone to find her stupid quill and _not_ lose it in three hours' time. Zabini, the lout, didn't seem to pick up on the near-palpable frustration she was exuding, or maybe he was just plain daft.

"I've lost my quill," she managed to grind out. It was too much to assume he would willingly loan her one of his, and she anticipated his leaving once he found out the cause of her obvious upset. She didn't expect him to arch a dusky, winged eyebrow and not budge an inch, and if someone had told her a good five minutes ago that she would be ogling that tall, lithe, dark-haired Slytherin that rarely spoke a word, she would've had them committed after laughing in their face.

She, Hermione Jane Granger, publicly ogling a Slytherin? Fat chance.

She didn't even look twice at Malfoy, handsome as he was with his white-blonde hair and that attractive set to his jaw. Then again, the sneering was a bit of a turnoff with the way it twisted his features around, and he was a vindictive little arse who deserved to have his entire body dunked in a creamy tub of wart cream.

It all started with his eyelashes. They were just so bloody _girly_, the longest she'd ever seen. Oliver Wood had held her private record for a good five to six years now, but Zabini took the cake. His eyes were the second attribute she looked at, the bluest of blue and just a shade darker than the sky on a clear day. She noticed his nose and lips – especially his lips, they were so full! – and, so slowly it almost hurt, the rest of him.

Then, the abrupt realization that she had been ogling him shamelessly, _right in front of him_, dawned on her. Hermione turned a violent shade of puce and quickly opened her mouth to apologize, only to snap it shut again when he cut her off.

"Mind if I sit down?" He motioned to the empty seat next to her, not seeming to care that she'd just been eyeballing him, and she nodded meekly. The Italian set his bag down beside the leg of their two-person table and flung a long arm over the back of her chair, his fingers brushing lightly against her shoulder. He flashed her a smile – her parents would've been tremendously proud – and proceeded to wink at her.

"You know, Granger …" he lowered his voice conspiratorially, a half-smirk playing his wonderful lips. "If you wanted a look, you should've just said so."

Hermione felt her face heat up even more. Only Merlin knew how vigorously she wished to melt into the floor at that moment, but Zabini wasn't finished with her. Oh contraire, he was just getting started, the conniving bastard.

He leaned in, and she felt her heart jump to her throat. Surely he wouldn't, not in front of the class … and yet, she found she didn't really care.

Something heated blossomed in her belly, and she _wanted_ him. She was beyond embarrassment, stuck in a vortex where time slowed down.

With his mouth only centimeters from hers, he spoke, and she felt her heart skip a beat. "Because," he breathed placidly, toying with a lock of her hair, "I've been looking, too."

And then, he pressed his face to hers, and she felt the kiss all the way to her toes.

Hermione could still feel the imprint of his firm lips when she met him outside the Room of Requirement later that night, and she wouldn't have traded the kisses they shared for anything in the world.

Even a thousand-plus quills.


End file.
